When You Feel It, You Know
by buscemi
Summary: A montage of questions unanswered, mid-Drake & Josh Go Hollywood. Mild slash!


"Maybe," Drake broke the silence after what felt like an hour of 'deep' thinking – or as deep as deep thinking goes for Drake, "we could dig a hole under this wall to get outside!"

Josh buried his face in his open palms, mumbling to himself for a moment before peeking out. "Well, genius, even if we could find a shovel in this..._prison cell_ before those goons come back for us, you forgot one thing."

"What?"

"_This is a cement floor!_" growled Josh with his most practiced, patronizing voice.

Drake stared, daring himself to speak up for once. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?" Josh almost _over-_articulated in reply.

"You couldn't possibly give me credit for trying, could you?"

"I give you credit."

"No, you don't!" Drake exclaimed, throwing his hands around dramatically. "You think, _'Why am I even listening to this boob? I'm _so_ much smarter than him.'_"

"Well to be honest, when was the last time one of your _big plans_ has gotten us in any less trouble?" Josh retorted, narrowing his eyes.

Drake, scoffing, crossed his arms over his chest and refused to look in his step-brother's direction. Eventually, ridiculously angered that Drake was angry at him in the first place, Josh quit his pacing and slid down the back wall, curling up with an old hunk of metal.

~*~

"I never got to say goodbye."

Josh lifted his head to look at the tousle-haired boy across the room. "What do you mean?" he mumbled in a sleepy voice, as the bitter silence that had befallen them this past hour or two had left him nothing to do but struggle to rest his pounding head.

Drake gave a sigh just loud enough for Josh to make out, back still facing the other. He contemplated not finishing his thought for a moment, afraid of admitting it aloud. "It's just...I have this sinking feeling in my stomach, like there's this monster under the bed and–"

"No one hears you scream," Josh finished slowly.

"Yeah."

Neither spoke now, lips trembling like children staring down shadows on the wall.

"Who would you say goodbye to?" Josh dared ask, if only for conversation.

"Mom...and Walter, and even Megan...all my friends...my band. God, my band! This was supposed to be our big break!" Now Drake was the one to bury his head in his hands, running his fingers through his sleek brown locks while he squeezed his eyes shut.

Josh watched him like that for a minute with sad, glistening eyes. "I'm sorry," he admitted quietly. "I just thought I could help. I mean, those guys looked pretty fishy!" With a sigh, he mumbled, "This is all my fault."

Drake sighed as well in reply, leaning his chin on his fist. "Yeah."

Narrowing his eyes again, Josh said snootily, "Well don't strain yourself disagreeing!"

"Come on, Josh, we wouldn't be in this mess if you had just handed over the G-O!" accused the more outspoken one, spinning around to return the glare.

"And let these Godfather wannabe goons get away with whatever they're planning?"

And just like that, their anger quelled and they both slumped over again.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Drake muttered.

Unable to completely stop, however, Josh continued, "Besides, we wouldn't be here in the _first place_ if you hadn't let Megan get on the wrong flight."

"You were the one watching her!"

"You're her brother! You didn't even want to stay to watch her plane take off!"

"It's Megan!"

Josh paused. "Touché," he said in that same snooty tone again.

"Josh, do you think...do you think we'll get out of here" – Drake gulped – "alive?"

The other one exhaled gradually, sliding a rock across the floor out of boredom and, hopefully, distraction from their possible doom. Oh, who was he kidding? _Probable_ doom. "I don't know."

"I'm scared."

"Me too." Josh shut his eyes for a moment, opening them to find that Drake had turned to face him again, earning him a half-hearted smile. "Do you remember how much you hated me when we first met?"

Drake returned a goofy, lopsided grin. "I wouldn't say hate, I'd say...strongly disliked, with an undertone of resentment. I mean, I didn't want a new family. I wanted my old one back."

"If you'd asked me a couple of years ago, I wouldn't have thought you knew what resentment even meant," Josh teased, leaning his head back against the wall with a soft _thud_.

Still, Drake watched him, smile all but faltering. It was so contagious even Josh mimicked it. "And now you're my best friend."

"You're my best friend too."

Their borderline brotherly romantic moment was interrupted only by the rustling outside, the beeping of the counterfeit machine and manic chuckles of their kidnappers.

"Do you think if I take off my shirt they'll let us go?" Drake asked, once again desperate to break through the quiet. It was one of his greatest fears, something only his closest friends and family had known – including Josh _twice_.

"Maybe it's worth a try," Josh quipped in return.

Immediately he regretted it as he reluctantly eyed Drake's defined, somewhat lanky but chiseled torso as the boy struggled to slip it over his head. Funny, Josh had always been under the impression getting undressed had been one of Drake's multiple natural talents.

Drake, now bare-chested, revealed that same goofy grin as before. "And now we wait."

~*~

Eventually Josh drifted off into gentle sighs and snores, and Drake, shivering as he pulled his shirt back on, curled up into the sleeping boy.

~*~

Someone's shouts woke both of them up with a start, Josh wiping his drool from Drake's shoulder and his chin only to meet his step-brother's eyes. His breath hitched in his throat. Josh had never been a bold boy, ready to cringe and shake away the moment that swooped up him and Drake, a moment that he'd only shared with one or two girls before. He knew, however, that Drake's thoughts were mirroring his own. They both shared a look of fear, caught between edging away and a desperation to be closer, while their eyes darted between the other's.

"Drake, I'm afraid if my lips don't keep moving something bad is going to happen."

Drake had kissed a boy before, a childish dare between friends. He remembered how undeniably sloppy it was, something he'd never imagined doing for recreation. After all, it wasn't a secret Drake was a ladies' man. And like any other man, he had self-control. However, when thoughts of that full bottom lip caught between his teeth – his _step-brother's lip­_ – clouded his mind, he knew he'd lost it. Something urged him not to give into his brain, dart across the room and pretend like nothing had ever happened...even offer himself to those madmen outside. Something told him to follow his instincts, that scent of Fruit Roll-Ups and peppermint, his every desire as the moments ticked on.

"I know it sounds crazy, but maybe it's not so bad."

Josh, being the logical thinker of the pair, was somehow swayed once again by Drake's charm and smooth talking. That was how it always went, though. He'd tried being that little super-ego angel on Drake's shoulder long enough, but in the end, even when he knew Drake's plans would fall through and he'd be there to pick up the pieces while Drake's head was in the clouds, he could honestly say that he couldn't be happier.

Their lips hovered toward one another, ready for God to smite them or someone to walk in or, their worst fears realized, they were ready for them to actually like it. And they did. Drake's irreversibly thin lips knew exactly what they were good for and _exactly_ how much pressure to apply to make Josh shiver.

And as soon as it had begun, it had ended. The two of them, stuck in the purgatory of indecision, parted, though still leaned into one another against the wall, careful to avert each other's eyes as they decided just what all of that meant.

Eventually, their eyes finding the will to drift closed again, Drake moved to lie down while Josh spooned against him.


End file.
